More Like A Thorn
by Blackelf99
Summary: Rose/Scorpius AU where Rose is a prostitute and Scorpius is a client. Despite how this sounds, there is no sex. See author's note inside for trigger warnings. This will have a happy ending when complete.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: A Rose/Scorpius story I wrote awhile ago and recently transferred to the computer. A bit of an AU- Rose is a prostitute and Scorpius is a client. Trigger warning: prositution, parent death, major character death, low self-esteem, poverty, alcohol, swearing, dubious/coerced consent and basically things associated with being poor and a prostitute. Sad but with a happy ending! Probably will be three chapters in all, I already have 1.5 written. Enjoy, feedback is appreciated.

She often wonders how she got here. Here, a seedy hotel on a dirty mattress, here, a gritty Muggle bar with men decades older than herself, here, a filthy truckstop where the men sneer at her, like she's a piece of meat that they want to tear apart with their small yellow teeth, breath reeking of alcohol. Here is a state of mind. If only the great Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley could see her now, doing things she would never have thought about Before to people she was revolted by.

Her name had once fit her.

Rose. Dignified, delicate- but with an edge, respected and respectful. Rose was naive, loving, too caring for her own good.

She went by Thorn now.

Her smile was more like a scar imbedded in the flesh of her face, a shell as tough as bone guarding what used to be delicate and fragrant petals. Rose was dead. That girl was long gone, she had died with her parents four years ago. Thorn's- Rose's- innocence had been stolen with the life of her father in a duel, with the life of her mother to her own grief over him. Their deaths were six weeks apart.

Thorn's grief twisted her, scarring and burning her impressionable soul, smashing the fragile g;lass of her world. She failed out of Hogwarts in her sixth year, the same year her parents died.

Harry and Ginny took her in for a time. She wanted to go, all she was was a burden to her lovely aunt and uncle, but she had still been a minor. But then her birthday had come, as birthdays tend to do with those fortunate- or unfortunate?- enough to be still living.

In a way, Rose knew it couldn't have been different. She was a now-wilted flower.

No, less. More like a thorn.

Hence, her new name, Thorn Wester. Thorn liked to pretend Rose was still alive, a different person living the life that an innocent flower was meant to have. Thorn distanced herself from Rose.

She didn't need a backstory. She never even conjured up a new middle name for herself. Nobody cared to know that many details about a whore.

She was on her fifth beer of the night. Liked life better when she was drunk, but in her case who wouldn't? She was in a Muggle bar, a decent one compared to her usual dives, but still disgusting by most standards. The floor was stained with what looked like blood, but at least the air didn't reek of semen and stale sweat.

She was staring intently into the amber foam of her cup when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Startled, she spun around and was met by one of the most handsome faces she'd seen. The man looked familiar, but he wasn't a former client. Boy, would she have remembered that.

His face was angular, with a pointed nose and chinand sharp jaw that gave him a permanent superior, classy look. His hair was a pale blond, long, but tied back smoothly and obviously clean. His dress wasn't suited to the atmosphere- expensive gray slacks and white polo with matching gray suit jacket. Thorn was immediately concious of her threadbare red dress that was just a bit too low in the neck, and a bit too high in the skirt.

She felt the man's eyes all over her, but not in the way she was used to. His icy blue eyes were calculating and appraising, but not in the way that made her feel like a cut of meat up for sale. Which she was, supposedly. A small part of her thought he was probably a serial killer, with her luck. But her survival senses overcame her other survival senses. Money now, safety later. She dealt with dangerous men every day, but they were rarely- well, never- rich.

He was checking her out, and obviously had money. She began to turn on her practiced charm. He seemed immune to her signature eyelash flutter, demure gaze and the way she ran her fingers down his arm seductively. She shifted her shoulders just so, sending waves of red hair cascading down around the ever-drooping neckline of her dress.

The man sat on a bar stool next to her and ordered a draft beer. When it came, he didn't even take an interest in it. It sat there, languishing on the counter. Alarm bells rang in Thorn's head. The man was oddly quiet. he hadn't said a word but to order his beer, and he had been painstakingly direct even then. She chided herself and refocused on her paycheck, perched right next to her, decked out in expensive threads.

Thorn was already planning what to do with her money. First, the rent... No, Thorn, she thought. First, the sale.

"What's your name?" she purred quietly. She could do that- pile on the charm, make the men think she was really interested. This tactic was safer than streetwalking, but harder and more tiring. You got rejected more, too, by focusing on just one target.

The man smirked at her question, like he was on to her true intentions, and Rose would have been attracted to that sexy smirk had she not stopped feeling romantic attraction so many years ago.

"You don't care about my name." He matched her tone, quiet, and he just stated that simple fact without sounding offended or confrontational. He probably knew her true intentions, given the state of her dress and her makeup.

Thorn smirked right back. Oh, he wanted to play games? She'd give him games.

"Looking for some company tonight? Lonely?" She started running her fingers along his leg now, desperately trying to swoon him.

The man pulled out his wallet, expensive black leather, and took out a crisp hundred dollar bill. He laid it on the counter as payment for his untouched beer. Thorn figured it would pay for her drinks, as well.

That was an insane amount. It would have bought Thorn a lot. Being in her state, she learned how to stretch a dollar.

This guy clearly was richer than she even expected.

Smiling at her, he grabbed her arm and led her out of the bar.


	2. Chapter 2

AN- Sorry this chapter took so long for me to post. It's been sitting in my notebook for months, but I hate converting things from paper to computer. I've also been pretty busy. Anyway, here it is now. I think there will be 2-3 more chapters after this, depending on where the part I haven't already written goes...

It was raining now. The drops were small but steady.

The man was just staring at the cars rushing past on the pothole-ridden street in front of the bar, watching as they sprayed up sheets of muddy water that had accumulated in the holes as puddles. He made no move, not even to wipe the water from his now sopping hair- the bar didn't have an awning- to indicate that the rain even bothered him a teeny bit. Thorn realized she still didn't know his name.

"I'm Thorn," she said, trying to sound sweet but failing for once, She was wet, and cold, and didn't feel like working tonight. She didn't give her last name, not yet, sometimes not ever. She lived on the fringes of life, the bottom of the barrell, what most people warned their daughters against being.

The fringes, but not recklessly.

"That's not your birth name," the man stated. He didn't miss a beat. "So, I guess you can call me Scorpion." Thorn giggled a little. She'd had some clients who wanted to be called some pretty unorthodox things, but this was new.

Scorpion smiled sincerely and asked what she would like to do. Thorn was taken aback. most men associated with prostitutes gavelittle concern to the women's desires. To most, she was just a set of tits and legs, an object to be used. Feelings were checked at the door, and she was just a mediocre body and all that mattered was how loudly she could scream.

She gave a ditzy laugh that made her sound like she had the IQ of a fruit fly. The clients loved it. "Whatever you want to do." She twirled a lock of her flaming red hair around her fingernail, covered in chipped aprioct polish.

Scorpion stared at her with those damned unnerving eyes.

"I charge 250 an hour," she added. She didn't always; she adjusted her prices to whatever reasonable amount that a human body could be sold for, going loweer when she was most desperate. This guy clearly had the money, he would afford her.

Scorpion looked at her long and hard, and Thorn began to sweat. She was just about to lower her price, as she really needed the money, when Scorpion spoke.

"I don't want to fuck you, Thorn." his voice was almost a whisper.

He blushed. "W-well, I do, who wouldn't?" he stammered. "B-but... not this way. Not like this." Thorn's heart dropped to her stomach. Did this guy think she worked for free or some shit?

She supposed she wouldn'tbe paying rent on time after all.

Just as she was turning to go back into the bar- maybe she could still pick up some horny old schmuck- Scorpion called her attention again.

"Hey." he said. "Thorn. I'll pay you, okay? 300 an hour, for your time, and we can go for dinner or something. If you want." She knew that she could say no. She'd had plenty of experience with men, and Scorpion's tone indicated that he wouldn't even think about decieving her, as so many men tried to do.

He sounded boyishly hopeful, like a schoolboy asking out his crush. She agreed.

She couldn't hep but hope, in that bright and naive corner of her mind, that he would fall in that magical thing called love with her and sweep her off her feet, off the streets. Yeah, as if.

She shut up her hopeful glimmer. She was a street whore. she was not glamourous or classy or respectable in any right. The dauhter of two memebers of the Golden Trio was but a rusty penny.


End file.
